


And They Were Roommates

by DesperateMannequins



Series: half baked ideas (the best kind) [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ace!Stiles, Aro!Peter, Aromantic Peter Hale, Asexual Stiles Stilinski, Comfort, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, like 10 words of maybe angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 05:14:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15284466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesperateMannequins/pseuds/DesperateMannequins
Summary: Stiles is worried his friends have figured out something is not quite right with his and Peter's relationship.--Where Stiles is scared of coming out as ace and has a fake relationship with Peter to cover it while Peter is happy for a snuggle partner without any romantic expectations. (Okay and maybe they like each other as people. What of it?)





	And They Were Roommates

**Author's Note:**

> sooooo i kinda got leukemia a few months ago? and uh. chemo doesn't lend itself well to writing so i'm trying to start small and hopefully get back to my bleach/twd fic soon. but also self-indulgent aro-ace semi-steter fluff bc i love it

“They're getting suspicious.”

Peter looks up from his phone, tracking Stiles as he shuts the door and moves through their apartment. “Is that so?” he asks disinterestedly.

A book bag sails through the air and hits the end of the couch, punctuated by Stiles’ frustrated groan. “Dude, come on! You know how it goes: suspicious friends leads to privacy violations, and privacy violations leads to them getting it in their heads that someone's cheating and all that shit equals _a very bad time_!”

“Perhaps, and this is just a thought,” Peter sneers, “if a group of overly nosy college students that couldn't tell if a murderer covered in blood was standing beside them, supernatural senses be damned, think that they have the right to know and weigh in on your or my private matters — especially mine — then they can eat a mouthful of mountain ash.” He finishes with small snarl, eyes flashing.

Stiles stares, open mouthed, for a moment before his eyebrows come together and he slowly approaches the tense werewolf. “Peter.” When he doesn't get a response, Stiles pokes Peter's knee. “I… I didn't realize you were this mad about doing this. I'm sorry.” Stiles breathes deep, dropping his eyes to his lap. “I can tell them we broke up; I'll find someone else to be a beard—”

Peter rolls his eyes, reaching over and hauling Stiles into his lap. “I'm angry, yes, but I'm doing this because you are one of the few I can stand to do it with, and it matters to you.” Scenting Stiles, Peter rumbles contentedly. “If you think you would be able to _make_ me do something I don't want to, then you must have hit your head too many times while trying to save your idiot friends.”

Scoffing, Stiles shoves at Peter's face. “Okay, well, it's kinda hard to be on board with this whole thing when I now know you'd rather cut off your own hand.”

“Stop being dramatic.”

“ _I_ _'m_ dramatic? Do you see me getting all growly?”

“As I was saying,” Peter says, changing subjects with the grace of an elephant, “if this is important to you, I will continue to help. You’re pack.” Stiles warms at the sincerity in his voice, settling a bit into Peter as much as his pointed limbs allow. Peter grunts and huffs a laugh. “It’s also beneficial to me, as I’m sure you’re aware. My orientation can be… disapproved of, among the general population. Your acceptance has been a welcome change.”

Snorting, Stiles flaps a hand. “We’re buds! Aro-ace solidarity right?”

“If you want to reduce the trust we share from years of relying on one another in life threatening situations and recently getting an apartment together to ‘aro-ace solidarity’, sure,” Peter says flatly.

“You know what I meant, jackass.”

Peter cracks a smile, dumping Stiles out of his lap and ignoring the loud yelp. “I do. Now help me with dinner. I meant to set out chicken this morning but I was, hm, distracted by a message from a new friend of mine—”

“I know what that means and I know you’re just trying to distract from the fact that _you have feelings_ ,” Stiles sing-songs from the ground, flipping the werewolf off. “Also, what are we supposed to make since you were too fucked out to thaw the chicken.” He pauses, thinking that over and then shudders, quickly adding, “Actually, thank you for not touching our food.”

Taking a breath and hitting his head gently against the freezer, Peter wonders if it’s too late to cut all ties to Stiles. He holds up a hand. “One,” he flicks up his pointer finger, “I actually wash my hands, which I’m sure you’re not familiar with, you filthy brat, and two,” Peter twists his head to make sure Stiles sees him roll his eyes, “we have a microwave, idiot.”

Stiles hisses. “Ohh, what a burn, and two for the price of one!” he says in an announcer’s voice. “Here’s a thought, get fucked!”

“I do, quite regularly.” Peter opens the cabinet and begins taking out spices. “Now, put the chicken in the microwave and hit ‘defrost’.”

“Okay, yeah, I walked into that,” Stiles grumbles while getting up. “You were right by the freezer, why didn’t you take it out?”

“Because I love to see you miserable.”

“Bitch.”

“Whatever you say, dear.”

By the time the chicken is cooked, Stile is flinging ice cubes at Peter and dodging the ones Peter swats back. The worry about Scott’s awkward looks and Lydia’s sharp texts fade as he relaxes into the comfort of being around someone who’s knows all of him and doesn’t find anything lacking.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading


End file.
